Leaving Dick
by moms2398
Summary: Dean comes to the rescue of OC and stumbles on a case. My first Case!Fic for S/N. Constructive criticism helps me grow and comments are welcome!
1. Rescue and Run

_A/N: My first Supernatural fiction involving an actual case. Enjoy and please feed the author._

_Unfortunately, I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters, living or inanimate. If I did, I'd have a sweet ride and nice view on the way to work, everyday._

**LEAVING** **DICK**

Dothan, Alabama

Dean was sitting at the bar of a sports bar and restaurant drinking beer, waiting for his brother Sam to arrive. After finishing a case in Dothan, Sam decided to take a side trip to visit Jess' parents on the 5th anniversary of Jess' death. While Dean didn't like Sam being gone again so soon after their reunion, he understood why Sam felt it needed to happen. At the same time, he didn't feel the need to tag along. So, he sat in his hotel each day and sat in this bar each night, waiting for Sam to return – or another case to pop up, whichever came first.

As was the case every night, he sat watching people walk in and sit through their meals and/or drinks, interacting with people they came with or met. He would smile into his drink as he watched men get shot down by women they approached. He thought he was pretty good about picking out the women who were open to an encounter and the ones who weren't. He credited this ability for his many and varied successes with women over the years. He was currently scoring a 95% on his guesses, at just this location. Occasionally, there was a surprise: a woman who he'd pegged as up for anything that went home alone or a woman he was convinced was leaving alone left early with company.

He was thinking about calling Mel, the bartender, over to switch from beer to whiskey when he noticed a woman sitting at a table for two. Dressed in a black collared shirt and jeans, she looked uncomfortable and, to him, extremely sad. She kept pulling her long, dark hair to the front as if trying to hide part of her face, and pulling her collar up. His green eyes narrowed as he looked across the distance through the smoke to try to figure out what she was hiding.

Her company arrived at the table and she seemed to flinch when he put a large hand on her slight shoulder. Dean notice a whitening of the man's fingertips, indicating pressure and in that moment, Dean knew what he was looking at.

Dean was a hunter. Some would say that was a euphemism for a cold-blooded killer. He'd killed evil creatures in almost every perceivable incarnation and, in most cases, without second thought. He didn't kill indiscriminately, though. He killed creatures of pure evil and, in some cases, their human vessels – it was easier to think of them as "meat suits", as he'd heard a demon once describe his vessel. Demons burned up their vessels from the inside out and those few who could be separated weren't likely to survive long, if at all.

He was a criminal, too, wanted by the law for the murders of innocents killed by a monster pretending to be him and an attempted bank robbery that wasn't really an attempt on the bank, but part of a hunt. He had a box in his trunk of fake IDs and credit cards obtained through falsified documents. He and his brother were experts at breaking and entering. He'd even stolen a car or two, but only in desperate situations because he could never replace "Baby" – a black '67 Chevy Impala.

He'd been raised by a Marine, trained to be a soldier/hunter and taught to be ruthless until the job was done. Even his brother – his only real weakness and yet often the source of his strength – would say that Dean's moral compass wasn't exactly pointing to true north.

With all that said, Dean had a very strict code of ethics. And this man, gripping this woman's shoulder, was violating that code. As he looked at her, he could see the faded fingerprints on her neck that she was trying to hide with her collar. He wagered that her hair hid a bruise as well.

Dean watched as the man sat across from her and spoke to her, wagging a finger at her. She winced and her tears welled up as she spoke in turn. Angrily, the man reached across the table and grabbed her wrist, causing her to cry out - a sound barely audible over the loud music of the jukebox.

Dean slammed down his beer and rose. He threw some bills down on the bar, as he thought there was a good chance he wouldn't be coming back to settle up his bill later.

He wiped his mouth to make sure there was no residual beer lingering in his facial scruff, then dropped his chin slightly while squaring his broad shoulders and straightening his back to cross the room, hands flexing in and out of fists as he prepared for a fight.

"Excuse me, Miss," he said as he stopped at the table, his back to the man. Despite the anger he felt, he was able to offer her a small smile. "Are you okay?"

She looked up at him with incredible pale blue eyes that were red-rimmed with restrained tears and trimmed in thick black eyelashes. "What?"

He smiled with the confidence that his smile could be disarming. "I noticed that you seemed to be upset…"

"Mind your own business, bub," the man behind him growled.

"I would be happy to escort you home or – if necessary – anywhere else you may want to go," Dean ignored the man.

"I said," the man stood and put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Mind your own business!"

In a flash, Dean had the man's offending hand twisted behind his own back and had the man bent over the table at the booth across from where the couple had been sitting. "I wasn't talk to you." He leaned forward, putting his opponent even more off-balance, and growled, deeply. "It's a little different when it's not a woman you're trying to beat up, isn't it?"

The woman stood. "Stop! Please! You don't know what you're doing!" She nearly screamed at Dean, who turned his attention to her, while continuing to keep the same upward pressure on the man's arm.

Now Dean could see the bruise just below her eye, fully and it infuriated him. "I can help get you out of here. He'll never touch you again."

Tears spilled out of her eyes as she shook her head. "You don't understand. Nobody can help me. Please!" She looked fervently at her escort. "He'll kill you!"

"She's right, Winchester!" the man's voice rumbled.

Dean frowned and looked down, wondering for a millisecond how this jackass knew his name, before the man reared back with a burst of sudden surge of strength, throwing Dean off his feet, over a table. Wincing with pain in his shoulder and backside from his landing, he straightened and looked at his opponent.

The man's eyes were completely black.

Dean grinned. "Well, this makes the job easier." He rose to his feet and suddenly the woman was next to him, holding his arm.

"Please stop! He'll kill you!" She begged. "He's done it already!"

Suddenly the explosive sound of a shotgun being fired into the ceiling caught the entire bar's attention. Mel stood behind the bar, leveling the shotgun at the demon. "Move and I will fill you full of holes. You both need to get out of here." When the demon made a motion to continue after Dean, Mel cocked the shotgun. "I have already called the cops. Dean, you and the lady, use the back door. You, buddy, use the front."

Dean nodded at Mel and took the woman's hand from his arm and pulled her out of the bar with him, ignoring her protests. Mel had known Dean was parked in the back parking lot and this would give him a head start to get the woman out. That was, of course, if the demon didn't vacate this suit and grab another already back there.

Exiting the bar, Dean looked carefully around the lot and continued to pull her to the Impala. When he opened the door for her to get in, he saw tears streaming down her face. He didn't have time to be gentle or offer explanation, so he barked. "Get in!"

She jumped but got into the car. He slammed the door and ran to jump behind the wheel. As he put the key in the ignition, he saw the brute lumbering into the parking lot, and slammed his foot on the gas and Baby peeled out of the parking lot.

A short time later, they arrived at his hotel, a dive with separate entrances to each room. He parked in front of the room and ran into the room with her in tow. He started packing up his stuff quickly as she melted onto the edge of one of the beds.

"He'll kill us both," she whispered, wringing her hands, terrified tears flowing without sobs.

He stopped what he was doing and turned to look at her. His eyebrows lowered as his eyes closed for a second to regain his patience. He grabbed a chair from the nearby table, walked over to her and sat in front of her. "What's your name?"

"Holly," she sniffled.

"Holly," he offered his hand. "I'm Dean."

She looked down at his hand and then back to his face. "Why did you do that?!"

Dean grinned. "Just lookin' for trouble, I guess."

She frowned at him, waiting.

Dean swallowed the grin. His green eyes met her blue eyes with intensity. "I know he beat you up."

Her eyes dropped in shame.

"I also know he's not the person you used to know. He's different now. More sinister?"

She frowned at him. "He more brutal. When he…hit…me before, he just seemed angry. Now he seems to enjoy it."

"So he hit you before?"

She lowered her head and began to weep, this time with small whimpering sounds. She nodded. "Since right after our honeymoon, almost ten years ago."

Dean was shocked. "Why would you stay?"

She put her face in her hands.

He shook his head. "When did he turn sadistic?" he asked. "Holly?" he prodded. "It's important."

"About six months ago," she whimpered. "His eyes turned black and he'd smile…" her tears returned in full force, causing her entire body to shake, but still making very little noise.

Dean was the last person in the world to have Dr. Phil moments, but this touched his heart, even as hardened as it was. He moved to sit next to her on the bed and put his arm around her loosely.

When he did, she stiffened and pulled away. "What are you doing?"

Dean shook his head and stood. "I don't even know. Listen, your bastard husband is now a demon-possessed bastard husband. I can protect you, make sure that he never hurts you again, but you need to trust me and we need to leave before he tracks us down."

She was frowning at him as if he'd lost his mind, which might have looked funny if not for the red eyes and tear stained face. "Demon?"

Dean nodded with his left hand on his hip, pushing back his worn leather jacket. "Black eyes give it away every time. And he knew my name."

She frowned and tilted her head. "He called you 'Winchester'."

He nodded with an attempt at a self-deprecating grin. "Yeah, well, I guess I'm a well-known pain-in-the-collective-asses of all demon-dom."

She looked down at her fingers. "So, Dean Winchester. How are you going to protect me from a…demon?"

He went back to packing. "First, I take you somewhere safe. Then I kill the demon possessing your husband."

"Will you kill Brett, too?"

"Brett? His name is Brett?" Dean was incredulous. "What kind of Ken-doll name is that for a woman-beating bastard? Is he over-compensating for too many wedgies in middle school?"

Holly smiled, despite herself. "He came from money. Mister Popularity and Football Star. So, I don't imagine he suffered many wedgies."

Dean grunted. "Still a pansy name."

She sobered. tempt at a self-deprecating grinnng back his worn leather jacketse"Will it kill him?"

Dean turned back to her finding her face stoic, despite the tearstains. "I won't lie to you, Holly. I can't guarantee that he will survive. Demons burn up their host bodies. Even if I can trap him and exorcise the demon, Brett might already be dead."

She nodded, looking down at her hands. She took a deep, shaky breath. "So, where will we go?"

"I have a friend in South Dakota, who has the best safe house ever. He's the foremost expert on all this kind of crap. You'll stay there until it's safe."

She nodded, sounding doubtful. "South Dakota."

Dean nodded. He finished packing. "Come on. Let's hit the road before Brett tracks us down."

"I don't have any way to repay you…" Holly said when she stood.

"And you will never need to," Dean opened the door and looked out. "Come on; it's clear."

~υπερφυσικός~


	2. On The Road

~υπερφυσικός~

It was early the next morning when Dean pulled into a Walmart parking lot outside Jackson, Tennessee. She had dozed off but didn't really sleep while they were on the road. Every once in a while she would startle herself into an upright position. The first couple of times, Dean would jump and ask if she was okay. After that, he'd just grin at her and she'd look embarrassed and settle back down.

She sat up. "Where are we?"

"Tennessee."

She looked out of the window. "Walmart?"

"One stop shop. You can get a change of clothes or two and we can get some grub to take with."

She nodded. "And gas," she looked at the nearby gas station.

He nodded.

"Well, I'm going to do what every woman on the lamb does, so this will take a while."

"What's that?"

She fingered her hair. "Cut and color."

His eyebrows rose. "Not too short, I hope! It's great hair." At her incredulous look, he switched tacks. "What color?"

She smiled. "I'll decide when I get in there."

Dean nodded. "How will I recognize you?"

Her eyebrows rose. "Will you be changing your look, too?"

Dean looked at her like she was crazy. "Why? I'm adorable!"

She laughed, a full, sweet, honest sound that told him that, even though she was on the run with a strange man, she was more relaxed than she had been before. "And I'm not?"

He grinned. "I can't really tell, my own beauty is so blinding…"

She laughed again and shaking her head, opened the door. When she grabbed her purse, he grabbed her hand. "Don't use your credit cards."

She frowned. "Why not?"

"He can track you that way," he pulled out his wallet. "Go to the ATM and pull out what you need and pay cash. The pin is 1183."

She took the card. "Keith Partridge?" she asked, referring to the name on the card.

He grinned. "I'm going to get gas. I'll be parked right here when you're done." He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a phone. "Call me if you need help."

"Under Keith?"

"Dean."

She took the phone and nodded. Then she put her sunglasses on and walked into the not-too-busy, early morning Walmart. Dean watched her go in, then moved the car across the parking lot to the gas station.

And thirty minutes later, Dean was laying on the hood of his precious car, reclining on the windshield with his ankles crossed just above the grill, eating one of the hand-sized pies he'd found inside Walmart when he went in to get snacks for the road. He had filled up the tank, took a sink bath at the gas station and changed his clothes. He had also called Sam's phone and left a message that he was on his way to Bobby's with a demon on his tail. He knew it would take Sam time to catch up from Jacksonville, but he had a feeling he'd need back up.

From behind his sunglasses in the early morning, he was, again, people watching, marveling at the different kinds of people who moved in and out of Walmart. Farmers and factory workers, nurses and security guards, cops and women with three or four kids in tow. He was currently enjoying a petite red-head dressed in tight jeans, slightly-heeled boots, a fitted tank top under a plaid, button-down shirt that was left open. She stood outside the door for a moment with a bag in her hand, then turned and walked toward him, much to his delight because it meant that he would be able to enjoy her up close.

"You changed, too," she smiled as she approached.

He sat up. "Holly?"

She smiled. She reached up to her hair, which was still longish, but a good 6 inches shorter and a bright red-blonde color that put more color in her skin. He couldn't see the bruises on her wrist or throat, so he assumed she'd put make up on to hide them. Her large sunglasses covered the bruise on her cheekbone just below her eye, so he couldn't see if her makeup covered that too. "Like it?"

Dean blinked. "Yeah," he smiled, coolly. "It's certainly different. You look like a totally different person."

"Almost as adorable as you?"

He grinned. "Almost. You have all you need?"

She nodded. "I got another change of clothes and some female stuff." She offered the credit card back to him.

"Hold on to it. Just in case." He slid off the car and walked to the driver's side.

Dean pulled out of the Walmart parking lot and into the drive-thru at the nearby fast food joint. They ordered coffee and breakfast and pulled out on the road, on their way northwest.

~υπερφυσικός~

Somewhere west of St. Louis, they stopped for lunch at a run-down roadside gas station diner. Dean ordered his usual cheeseburger with everything, including heavy onions, while Holly ordered a bacon cheeseburger with onions and extra pickles only.

"Whenever I get lettuce and tomato and any kind of sauce on a burger, I end up wearing half of it," she explained.

Dean smiled. "I've worn my share of burgers," he nodded.

Holly looked at the fries on her plate and raised an eyebrow at him. "So how do you eat your fries?"

Dean frowned as if confused, then shrugged. He picked up a handful and shoved them in his mouth and chewed as an answer to her question.

She laughed. "Okay. So, plain." She dipped hers in the side of mayo she'd asked for.

He frowned. "French fries and mayo?" he asked with food still tucked in one cheek.

She grinned. "Don't knock it until you've tried it." Then she dipped another and handed it to him.

He took it and swallowed what was in his mouth. Then he, fearlessly thrust the fry in his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully. Swallowing, he said. "That's not bad. I'll remember that one."

Holly smiled. "So, you think Sam will catch up with us?"

During most of the ride, they'd talked about music, cars and inconsequential things. Holly seemed to want to avoid getting personal and Dean respected it, sensing her shame at her situation. He wanted to tell her that she had nothing to be ashamed of, but couldn't unless she brought up the subject. At one point, he mentioned Sam liking a band she liked and that led to him answering her queries about Sam and him and their hunters' lives.

Dean washed his last bite of burger down with his soda. "If he left Jacksonville after I called him, he'll probably catch up 'bout the time we get to Bobby's. If he was already on his way to Dothan when I called, he may only be a couple of hours behind us."

"Bobby is the friend in Dakota?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "I'll get you settled in there and meet up with Sam. Then we'll leave you with Bobby to go hunt the demon that's possessing Brett." He couldn't help saying her husband's name with disgust.

She nodded, finishing her last fry. "How far is it?"

He shrugged, wiping his mouth with his napkin and picking up the bill left on the table by the waitress. "We'll drive another six hours, I guess, and rest for the night. If we leave around 6 tomorrow morning, we should be at Bobby's by noon."

She nodded. "Well, I'm going to run to the ladies room before we go."

He nodded. "Good idea."

~υπερφυσικός~

Six hours later, Dean held the door of a run-down motel south east of Des Moines, and Holly walked in front of him. She looked nervously at the desk in front of them.

He took her elbow and whispered into her ear. "It's okay, Hol'. We got this."

She nodded. "Okay."

Together, they went to the desk and Dean rang the bell. The clerk came out, a swarthy teenage-looking young man with a wide, bright smile. Dean smiled back. "Hello, we'd like a room for one night." He produced a credit card and said. "Dean and Holly Vanzant."

"Excellent, sir," the young man, whose nametag identified him as Saeed. "Let's see what we have."

Dean's phone rang, then. Looking at the caller ID, he leaned over and kissed Holly's temple. "You finish taking care of this, hon. I'll go move the car." Dean walked out, answering the phone as he walked. He looked up and down the dark road to see if anyone might have followed them. He'd been vigilant all day, but took a moment, just in case. "Hey, Sam, where are you?" As predicted, Sam was about four hours behind them, but was catching up because he wasn't planning to stop until he needed to sleep, then would pull off to the side of the road for only a couple of hours, rather than taking a room for eight hours. As he talked, Dean moved the car, gathering up his bag, loaded with a shotgun, holy water and rock salt.

Meanwhile, Holly leaned forward and spoke to Saeed. "Listen, could you give us a nice room? It's our anniversary and his idea of romance is just any hotel. But I'd like it to be nice, if at all possible."

Saeed's eyes widened. "Oh, honey! It's your anniversary and he brought you here?! Wow, I'd think twice about stopping here if I was running from the law – and I work here!" He laughed, putting his hand to his chest.

Holly laughed and relaxed. The majority of her nerves came from the look of the motel – she was almost willing to face Brett before having to sleep with roaches. So her request was born in the hopes that the nicest room would be less infested. "Thank you for understanding. He means well, he just doesn't know what he's doing when it comes to romance. Macho man and all, you know."

"Honey, I do know the very type. Don't worry, I'll set you up."

Dean walked in with the bag that held his stuff as well as Holly's. He didn't want to walk in with Holly's stuff in a Walmart bag, so he'd stuffed it in with the shotgun. When Dean got to the desk, Holly went to the front window to look out, as he moved to sign the credit card receipt.

The clerk leaned forward and whispered, conspiratorially. "She told me it's your anniversary, so I put you in the honeymoon suite. No extra charge."

Dean's eyebrows rose, clearly surprised.

Saeed gasped. "Don't tell me you forgot!" the whisper became more urgent.

Dean played it off, slumping his shoulders. "Man, I'm dead," he mumbled. "I was doing this to put a little spark back in the bedroom, you know?"

"Here? Baby, you need to shop around better." The clerk shook his head and pursed his lips with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Listen, why don't you take her down the road to Max's Diner and I'll set up something nice in the room. How long have you been married?"

"Five years."

"She'll never know you forgot."

"Thanks, man. You're saving my marriage."

"Everything okay, Honey?" Holly reappeared.

"I was just telling your husband it'll take some time to get the room ready; our last guests left late. Why don't you all get some dinner? It should be about an hour."

Dean looked grateful. "Thanks."

When they returned from Max's Diner – a place that lived up to the name 'greasy spoon' – their room was ready. They found the room prepared with a much worn, faded red bedspread on the Queen size bed. There was a vase on the small table next to the window with five roses and two white tapered candles waiting to be lit and rose petals on the floor between the door and the bed.

Holly turned to Dean with a grimace. "I told the clerk it was our anniversary in hopes of getting a better room."

He grinned down at her. "I know. I told him I forgot."

She laughed out loud, relieved. She moved into the room, looking into the bathroom as Dean put his bag in the closet next to the bed. He was looking out the window when he heard her laugh again.

He turned as she came out holding a bottle. "Lavender bubble bath!"

Dean shook his head. "That guy is _really_ light in the loafers."

She smiled. "Oh, but if this was real, he would have certainly saved your bacon, forgetful husband."

Dean shrugged. "If you say so."

"I'm going to light the candles and put in them in bathroom while I take a bubble bath." She paused. "Oh! Unless you want to shower first?"

"No," he smiled. "I'm going to call Sam for an update on his location and see if he or Bobby have heard anything about Brett. I'll shower after you're done." He purposefully didn't tell her he'd already talked to Sam.

She nodded. "You're sure?"

"Go do your girly thing."

~υπερφυσικός~

There was no couch in the room and only two wooden chairs. Holly volunteered to sleep on the floor, but Dean's sense of chivalry wouldn't allow it. He offered to sleep on the floor instead but Holly said that she'd be completely unable to sleep if he was on the floor. She came up with the idea of layering the bedding. She would sleep under the sheet and the blanket and he would sleep under the blanket only, on top of the sheet. She wore loose shorts and a large t-shirt and he wore his boxer-briefs and t-shirt.

They said good night and turned off the lights; she turned to face the bathroom. He lay on his back watching the door, nearer to his side of the bed. As he dozed off, he heard a noise and stiffened.

She was crying.

Dean recognized that she was using the thin pillow to mask it but he could hear it. He figured she didn't want him to know if she was trying to hide it. After thinking for a while, he decided to move "in his sleep" and throw an arm over her waist to offer her some comfort without actually doing anything she would perceive as conscious. It wasn't too far-fetched since he usually slept on his stomach anyway.

When his hand landed on her waist, she stiffened. But when he grew still again and snored loudly, she relaxed. She let herself melt backwards just slightly so that his arm was around her more, scolding herself for acting like a schoolgirl, pretending that his arm was wrapped around her for comfort and protection. But it helped her convince herself that she safe. It helped her tell herself that Brett was never going to hurt her again. It helped her sleep.

~υπερφυσικός~

Holly stretched and forced her eyes open and found Dean, head propped up on one arm, looking down at her. She blinked and frowned. "Have you been awake for a long?"

He smiled. "No."

She groaned and turned away from him, pulling the sheet up over her head.

He frowned at this reaction and heard her say something but couldn't make it out. "What?"

"It's not fair!" She moved the sheet so her words would travel but he still couldn't see her face. "I just know that my eyes are swollen and my face is puffy and you wake up looking as great as when you went to bed!" She threw the blanket off, so that it covered him and quickly left the bed.

He laughed, knocking the blanket away. "If it matters, I think you're beautiful!"

"You're just being nice!" She closed the door and started water running.

Chuckling, Dean pulled his jeans over his boxers and a button-down shirt over the t-shirt he'd slept in. He checked his phone for messages and checked out the window. Everything seemed quiet in the early morning light.

Ten minutes later, Holly emerged from the bathroom, again wearing jeans, though these were a lighter, faded, wash with a grey-blue tank top under denim high-waisted vest. She looked very much like a country girl from the Midwest. Her makeup was done again to cover the bruises. The most obvious one was still the one under her eye, but she was skilled at disguising it.

That fact refreshed Dean's anger at her husband – no woman should have to become an expert at covering bruises with makeup. He couldn't wait to get his hands on the bastard.

She frowned at him. "Is there something wrong?"

Dean recovered from the scowl he hadn't meant for her to see. "I was just wondering if I was ever going to get a chance to brush my teeth."

She relaxed. "Oh! All yours."

She put on her boots and called out to Dean. "I'm going to go get coffee from the office."

Moments later, Dean emerged from the bathroom. "What? Holly?" When he saw that she wasn't in the room, his heart sank with dread.

~υπερφυσικός~


	3. Scared and Running

~υπερφυσικός~

Holly entered the office where there was a table with Danish and donuts with coffee and water for tea. She selected two large to-go cups, poured black coffee in both, sweetening only one with sugar substitute. She was in the process of piling donuts and Danish on a plate to take back to the room when she overheard a voice speaking at the desk across the lobby.

"His name is Dean. He's about six-one with spikey hair, green eyes," the man who spoke was tall with longish hair. "Travelling with a woman…"

She gathered the coffee and food in her hands and slowly walked to move out of the office. She paused when she heard the man answer the desk clerk's question of who he was with "I'm his brother."

She turned, then. "Sam?" she ventured.

The man turned and leveled hazel eyes at her. "Yes," he narrowed his eyes. Then he smiled. "Are you Holly?"

She smiled. "Yes. Wow, you drove fast –"

The door behind her flew open. "Holly?!" Dean's gruff growl practically yelled. "What the _hell_, Holly?!"

Startled by his loud voice at her back, Holly jumped, dropping the food and coffee, immediately dropping to her knees to clean up the mess, apologizing fervently.

Dean immediately regretted his actions as he rushed to her side, just as Sam came to her aid also. "I'm sorry, Hol'. I freaked when I saw you weren't in the room…"

"I'm s-s-sorry," she sniffed. "I thought you h-h-heard me."

He saw her tears and it hit him in the heart. He stopped trying to help her clean up and grabbed her hands. Standing with her in tow, he pulled her into a fierce hug. He glanced back at Sam, who nodded toward the door as the clerk arrived to help clean up, and walked her out of the door and back to their room. Once inside, he grasped her by the arms, carefully so as to not to make her feel like he was trying to hurt her. "Holly, listen to me: I'm not him. I will never hurt you like he did. I'm so sorry I scared you! I don't want you to ever be scared of me again."

When she wouldn't look at him, he gently cupped her face in both his hands. "Holly," his eyes sought hers with urgency. "Please believe me! I was only worried that the demon had gotten you. Even though we haven't seen it since we left, doesn't mean that it's not out there. You weren't in the room or the parking lot and I guess I freaked._ Believe_ me, Hol'," his voice was deep and gruff. "I would _never_ hurt you."

She swallowed and nodded in his hands, tears still in her eyes.

His eyes searched hers. "Next time I yell at you, I want you to tell me to go to hell or kiss your ass or something, okay?"

She almost smiled.

He tilted her head down and kissed her forehead. Then he pulled her into a fierce hug, holding her tight.

She melted into his arms, wrapping her arms around his waist and taking refuge there for a while.

Their moment was ended when there came a knock on the door. She tried to pull away from Dean but Dean held on for a moment longer, causing her to smile. When he let her go, at the second knock, he cupped her chin, gently, and searched her face. He could see the bruise under her eye more clearly since tears had washed away a portion of the makeup. It made him feel angry and sad at the same time, angry at himself and Brett and sad that she'd spent so many years learning to fear men. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

Hiding his anger, he smiled down at her as a third, more insistent knock called to them. "I suppose we should let Sam in before he starts thinking we're in the throes of something…" he grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.

She couldn't help but laugh at this and swatted his arm as she moved quickly into the bathroom.

Dean opened the door to find Sam carrying a beverage carrier with three coffees and a brown paper bag.

"Dude," Sam groused. "It's about time."

Dean took the bag from his younger brother and growled. "What? I was in the middle of something."

Sam looked around the room. When he saw the bathroom light filtering under the door, his eyebrows came together. "Is she okay?"

"Considering I'm a thoughtless jackass? Sure, just flashbacks to her bastard sonofabitch demon husband, whose ass I am going to use to decorate the road from Sioux Falls to the Canadian border if I get the chance. Other than that, great. Just peachy."

"Didn't she tell you where she was going?"

"I was in the bathroom, the fan in there is loud."

Sam nodded. "So if she did, you didn't hear. You came out, she was gone and there was no way for you to know what might have happened. Completely understandable, Dean."

"Maybe, but my reaction wasn't. I had no right to lose my temper with her. Not her, Sam! Not with what she's live with for the past ten years. Hell, as far as she's concerned every man might be capable of beating her up!" Dean cursed. "Demon or not, that bastard deserves to die."

Sam nodded. "I agree, Dean. But we've got to get her to Bobby's first. He'll take care of her while we go after him."

Dean nodded. "I know. I'm just pissed that _I_ put her through that terror."

The bathroom door opened and Holly emerged. "You can stop that, now, Dean," she said, softly. "I know, in my heart, you aren't like him. It was just an ingrained reaction. It will take time to get out of my system, I guess."

Dean frowned, but indicated to the table. "Sam brought us coffee."

She smiled a small smile. "Hello, Sam. Pleased to meet you. Dean's spoken at length of you."

Sam grinned. "Only believe about half of it."

Holly's smile became more relaxed. "The saintly hunter with a compassionate heart of gold half or the pain in the ass little brother part?"

Sam laughed. "I like her, Dean. Holly, I would say believe the saintly little brother."

"Ha!" Dean scoffed. "If anything, it should be the pain in the ass hunter part."

Holly smiled. She sobered looking at the coffees. "Shouldn't we be on our way?"

Dean recognized that there was still an edge to her voice and kicked himself internally again. He looked at his watch. "Yeah. Sammy, you probably didn't sleep all night to be here this early. You want to jump in the back?"

Sam nodded. "Sure. We can come back later for the other car."

Holly grabbed her coffee and started out the door. When she got there, she paused and looked back, a familiar, more relaxed, smile finding its way to her face as she said. "Little brother chaperone? Oh, well, I guess the honeymoon is officially over, Dean."

Sam's eyebrows disappeared under his hair as he look from a disappearing Holly to Dean.

"Shut up, Sam! You _know_ nothing happened!"

Sam looked around the room. "If that's true, you're slipping, Dean. Did you sleep on the floor?"

With a growl, Dean shouldered his bag and grabbed his coffee and the bag of pastries and stalked out, leaving a laughing Sam in his wake.

~υπερφυσικός~

Holly was humming along with the country music she convinced Dean to let her play. She felt a little guilty because she knew he only said yes because he still felt bad for scaring her, but she was enjoying the respite from 70s rock. She looked back at Sam who was snoring softly in the back seat, stretched out as much as his six foot four inch frame could be in the backseat of a car, and remarked. "He's going to be in pain when he gets out of the car, isn't he?" When she looked at Dean, she noticed his jaw was set and his eyebrows drawn together. She frowned. "Dean, please tell me you're not still thinking about this morning."

He looked over at her and faked a smile. "No. We're cool, right?"

She nodded, then tilted her head. "Then you dislike country music that much?"

He looked confused. "What?" He looked at the radio. "Oh, no. No, this isn't bad."

"Then what is it? What's bothering you?"

Dean shook his head. "Nothing."

"Dean," Holly spoke softly. "I like to think you haven't lied to me since we met. Why do I feel like you are now?"

He looked at her, fully. He seemed to be weighing his words before speaking. Finally, he looked up in the rearview and returned his eyes to the road, without speaking.

Holly looked into the side mirror to see a large black pickup truck behind them, at some distance. "What is it, Dean?" she whispered, fervently.

"We're less than two hours from Bobby's." He hit the steering wheel. "Hey, Sammy!"

Sam immediately sat up. "What?" he was hoarse and slightly groggy, but awake.

"We've got a tail," Dean growled.

Sam looked out the back window. "How long?"

"Last hour. Since the gas station."

"Any chance it could be coincidence?"

"C'mon, Sam!" Dean almost shouted. "You don't think I could figure out the difference between someone going in the same direction and someone following?!"

Sam leaned forward. "Okay, Dean," he said, calmly.

"How?" Holly asked, softly.

Dean looked at her and cleared his throat, responding more calmly. "I speed up, it speeds up. I slow down, it slows down. Always keeping the same distance between us."

She nodded. "Oh."

Sam put his hand on Holly's shoulder, gently. "Holly, I'm going to need for you to open the glove compartment and pull out Dean's gun and hand it to me."

Holly didn't hesitate and did what she was told, though she held the gun gingerly like someone who had never held a gun before.

"What's the plan?" Sam asked Dean, pulling out the gun's magazine and checking the ammo.

"Make it to Bobby's before they decide to catch up," Dean growled, looking back.

"'They'?" Holly asked. "How do you know it's a 'they' and not just 'him'?"

Dean looked at Holly, almost apologetically. "I can see two heads."

"And what happens if they do catch up?"

Dean glanced at Sam. Sam cleared his throat. "Then we fight," Dean said.

"If it comes to that, Holly, it will be very important that you stay calm and do absolutely everything we tell you," Sam said.

"Same goes for at Bobby's," Dean said. He hit the steering wheel. "I was hoping to get you there, safe and take the fight to them. The last thing Bobby needs is a freaking fight in his house again!"

She nodded, her eyes set on the road ahead, as if willing the distance to be shorter. "My mother used to say 'When Men make plans, God laughs'."

Dean looked at her, then. After a moment, he smiled, despite himself. He reached across the Impala's front seat and patted her hand. "Your mom was right."

Holly nodded. She swallowed. "So, tell me how to help. What can I do?"

~υπερφυσικός~


	4. Standing Up To Fear

~υπερφυσικός~

When the Impala pulled into the Singer Salvage Yard, the truck did not follow. Getting out of the car, Dean circled the front to get Holly from the front passenger seat, even as Sam emerged from the rear passenger door, and went to the trunk to load up on equipment. Dean and Holly got to the front door of Bobby Singer's house only moments before Sam. Dean used the key under the dead plant on the front porch to let himself in.

"Bobby!"

"In here!" came the response.

The three of them entered Bobby's dusty, cluttered library. There were books on all of the shelves that lined the walls and on the desk and tables next to the couch. Some were even stacked on the floor. The floor was covered by a faded oriental style rug and the room had an overall, unkempt, worn-antique feel. In the center, in front of the desk, Holly saw a round faced, slightly overweight man with a greying brown beard under a beat up baseball cap sitting in a wheelchair with a shotgun across his lap.

"They follow you in?" Bobby asked without preamble.

"Stopped at the gate," Dean growled. Walked Holly to the couch, where she sat, and turned to look out the window, taking his gun out of his waistband. Then he sat next to Holly. "Have you ever fired a gun before, Hol'?"

She shook her head, clearly terrified by the idea.

He took her hand and placed the cold metal in her hand. "The bullet won't really hurt it, so it's not important that you hit what you're shooting at as it is that you scare it into the center." Her eyes rose from the gun to the center of the room, where Sam stood with their bag. Sam smiled and pointed up. Holly's eye followed his finger to see symbols painted on the ceiling.

"What is that?!" She asked, panic rising in her voice. "It looks like _satanic_ writing…!" She suddenly looked at Dean, a new fear on her face.

"Holly," Dean grasped her arms and said, in a level voice. "Listen carefully. It is a devil's trap. If a demon steps inside, it'll be trapped unable to leave it. So we're trying to get Brett inside. Then, we can try an exorcism. Now is _not_ the time to freak out on me."

She looked into his green eyes and she was somehow able to pull it together. "W-What do I have to do?"

Sam brought a chair from the kitchen as Dean moved the desk back toward the wall. Sam put the chair down equidistant from the edge of the devil's trap on the ceiling and the desk. Dean took Holly's hand with a reassuring nod and led her from the couch to the chair, then Sam went to the bag and pulled out a large can that looked like a kerosene can. As he upended the can, something dry and white came out and he drew a circle on the ground around her.

Holly looked up at Dean with questioning eyes.

Dean explained. "Salt. Stay in the circle. No matter what you see or hear, Holly, stay in the circle."

She glanced at Bobby, then up at Sam, who was just finishing the circle. Then she looked back at Dean. "I will."

Dean took a moment to make Holly familiar with the gun, the safety and trigger, with a warning about the kick before he moved back to the window. Sam went to the door and did the same. Bobby moved his wheelchair next to her and offered her a flask. She took it from him and tipped it back.

Holly winced and coughed when she finished swallowing and handed it back to Bobby with a frown. "What is that?! Motor oil?"

Dean chuckled.

Bobby chuckled. "You may be right." He tucked the flask into a pocket on his chair. "So tell me how a pretty girl gets saddled up with an abusive jackass."

"Bobby!" Dean warned.

Holly held up a hand. "It's okay, Dean. You've been sensitive by not asking, but I know you want to know, too."

Sam snorted. "Dean? Sensitive?"

"Shut up, Sam!"

Holly grinned at the brothers, then sobered back at Bobby. "I met Brett in college. He was from a good family and I wasn't. My folks died when I was a teenager and I couldn't move out of my uncle's house fast enough for either of us. Bobby and I dated for the better part of a year and he asked me to marry him. We were engaged for three months and we had a fairytale wedding." She started to study her hands. "The first time he hit me was a month after we moved into our own place. I wanted to go back to school – I only had a year to go – but he didn't want me to. He wanted me to stay at home, maybe get a part-time job. We argued and he hit me. After he cooled off, he apologized, of course, and promised to never do it again."

Dean scoffed, but returned his attention to the window when Bobby shot him a dirty look.

Holly shook her head. "Dean's right, of course. I had been told that any man who'd hit a woman once, will do it again, but I was in love and optimistic. And we were happy for months before it happened again."

"You never thought about leaving?" Bobby asked.

Holly nodded. "Yeah, ah…" she looked down. When she looked up, her hands went to her abdomen. "When I got pregnant," she said, softly, tears appearing in her eyes.

Bobby groaned "Aw, jeez," under his breath as Dean began kicking the wall below the window.

She continued, softly. "I became terrified that he would do what he was doing to me to our child. So I took the little money I had saved from my job and left. He tracked me down, brought me home and beat me so bad that I ended up in the hospital and lost the baby. That was five years ago. He was devastated that I hadn't told him about the baby and he swore that he wouldn't have touched me if he'd known. After that, he wouldn't let me work, he kept close tabs on me. I don't even own a cell phone."

Dean moved out of the room, past Sam and out the door at that point. Sam watched his brother grab a shovel from the porch and go out to one of the scrap cars. Dean hit the car with the shovel four or five times, like a baseball player hitting a ball out of the park. Then, Sam returned his attention to the entrance of the scrapyard.

Bobby glanced at Dean, but refocused on her. "And then? Do you know when he became possessed?"

"It must have been six months ago. He came home, seemingly in a great mood. I served him dinner and he smiled at me, thanked me, told me that it looked delicious, then hit me so hard I flew across the room and hit my head on the wall. When I came to, he'd finished eating and was taking off his belt. He beat me with a smile on his face this time and when he was done, he drove me to the hospital and filed a police report that said I had been mugged. I couldn't do anything but agree with him. What was I going to do? His family was rich and connected. I had no money, no family, no way out." The tears escaped without sobs. She wiped her eyes with shaking hands. She sniffed and took a deep breath. "I just figured he'd kill me one day and that would be it."

Holly looked at Bobby. "Dean saved my life," she said, simply. "He didn't have to do this. The restaurant was very crowded; nobody else stepped forward when Brett grabbed me. Hell, I've had to walk through the market with bruises so bad I looked like the day after a price fight and _nobody_ ever even _asked_!" Her eyebrows drew together, confused. "Why did Dean?"

"It's part of how they were raised, sweetheart. Those boys hunt all kinds of evil creatures and, in the end, it's about helping the innocent. Demon or no, neither one of them could sit by and watch a woman getting abused and not help." Bobby offered her another drink.

She shook her head. With a small smile, she watched him take a drink. "That stuff will rot out your insides, you know that right?"

Bobby grinned. "Yeah, you're probably right." He turned to look at Sam. "Is that idjit done beatin' the crap out of my car?"

Sam grinned. "Yeah. He's just staring at the road now."

Bobby smiled at Holly. "Don't worry, Holly. You're in the safest place you could probably be."

Holly nodded. "It's hilarious. My abusive husband has been turned into a demon…"

"Possessed by," Sam corrected.

"Okay. My abusive husband has been possessed by a demon and is coming after me, probably intent on killing me – or worse – and I'm in the company of demon hunters and, yet, I'm feeling safer than I have in a very long time."

Sam smiled over at her.

Bobby looked from one to the other. "I have to say, sweetheart: you're an idjit, too!"

Holly laughed, softly. "Thank you, Bobby!"

The door opened then and Dean walked in, growling. "They're coming."

Everyone sobered at this pronouncement. Holly started to pick up the gun she'd been given, but decided to leave it on her leg until the very last minute, too nervous that she might accidently shoot Dean, Sam or Bobby.

Bobby patted her arm, looking her in the eye with a reassuring nod, then turned his chair to face the door, too, shotgun at the ready. Sam moved into the kitchen, which lay on the other side of the foyer, opposite of the library, so as to flank their attackers. Dean walked through the library to Holly's right to stand in the door of the dining room.

When the demons came in, they would, hopefully be drawn into the library by seeing Hope and Bobby sitting there. Once in the center of the room, they would be trapped by the devil's trap. Dean would be there, just out of eyesight, to ambush them with an exorcism or gunfire, as necessary, and Sam would be able to chase them in if they went the other direction. He'd also act as back up, once the demons were in the room.

It seemed to Holly like they waited in their positions forever and when the door flew open, she almost jumped out her chair. She fought the urge to look at Dean, instead gripping the handle of the gun, tightly. She lifted it, trembling as Brett walked in with another, shorter man.

Her eyes narrowed as she recognized the other man. "Wilson," she whispered. "Figures."

Bobby glanced over at her, then back to the approaching men.

"His best friend," Holly supplied as explanation, and Bobby nodded.

Brett smiled. "Well, darlin', here you are. I have to say, this is definitely a step _down_ from me, but still a step up from where I found you. Who's the sleazy daddy-figure?"

"If this lady was my daughter, I'd-a killed you ten years ago, jackass," Bobby grumbled.

"Go away, Brett," Holly said, her voice much more steady than her insides. "I'm not going back."

Brett smiled and stopped at the door of the library, leaning against the door frame, holding out his hand to stop Wilson from entering. "You know I can't go back without you. Or, at least, without your body."

"You must be hard of hearin', Brett," Bobby spat. "She's not goin' with you. So get out of my house."

Brett narrowed his eyes at Bobby and Bobby's chair went flying backwards, upending and dumping him on the floor. Without thinking, Holly jumped to her feet, sending her chair flying backward, the leg breaking the salt line on the floor. Even as Dean shouted for her to stop, she went to Bobby's aide.

"Get back in the circle, girl!" Bobby shouted as she reached his side.

She whirled to go back and suddenly found Brett between her and the circle. Brett smacked the gun she'd forgotten about out of her hand, sending it flying to the other side of the desk. She was trapped between Bobby's chair, as Bobby pulled himself up, and Brett. She swallowed and glanced beyond Brett to where Dean was holding up a shotgun, waiting for the opportunity to fire.

Dean tilted his head and she stepped to her left, under the circle of the devil's trap. "Hey, dickwad!" Dean shouted. As Brett turned around, Dean fired the shotgun which sprayed rock salt pellets into Brett, who staggered, but didn't fall.

Brett waved his hand and Dean went flying backwards.

"Dean!" Holly shouted, starting toward him. Suddenly, a pair of hands grabbed her arms above the elbows, stopping all forward motion. She cried out and struggled to get away.

"_STOP!_" Sam shouted from behind her and her attacker.

Holly was then spun around to face Sam, leveling his shotgun in her direction.

Dean had, by this time recovered, and returned to the library door, also leveling his shotgun, though at Brett. "She's done with you, Dick!"

"My name is Brett," the possessed man turned to look at Dean again.

"Sounds like Dick to me, Dick," Dean growled. "Tell your goon to let her go. Then you both can leave."

Brett's eyes turned black, then. "Really? The Winchesters would let a demon go to protect a simple whore?" He smiled and looked back at Holly. "She did tell you what she was doing when we met, right? That she was a taking her clothes off for money to pay for college?"

"So that makes it okay for you to beat the crap out of her?" Dean growled.

Brett held his hands out. "Never did."

"So she gave herself that bruise on her face?" Bobby asked.

Brett glanced over to where Holly was still struggling, tears in her eyes, but no sound escaping her. "That?" He laughed. "That was a love tap. She likes it rough, if you know what I mean."

"Liar!" Holly seethed. She caught Sam's eye and looked confused for a second. Then realization struck and she went limp.

Wilson wasn't expecting the sudden change and dropped her when she became a dead weight, as Sam hoped and he emptied both barrels of rock salt into Wilson's chest throwing him backward, screaming as the salt burned the demon within him. Sam, then reached forward and grabbed Holly, scurrying across the carpet toward him on her hands and knees, pulling her out of the devil's trap and behind him, where she returned to her feet.

At the same time, Dean, from the door of the dining room and Bobby, from the floor, fired their shotguns at Brett. He screamed and staggered. He opened his mouth to release his demon, but nothing happened. He looked at Dean who grinned and looked up. Brett's eyes followed and saw that he'd staggered into the devil's trap.

Sam began to recite the exorcism incantation in Latin. Holly peeked out from behind him.

Brett saw her and smiled. "I am not the one who hurt you, Holly," he said, softly. "I can take Brett back to Alabama and he'll never hurt you again."

"What about the last six months, Dick?" Dean growled. "The bruises she has now aren't from before you took control of her bastard husband."

"But if you exorcise me, Brett will die. Holly, you don't want his death on your hands, do you?"

Holly stepped forward then, careful not to pass Sam. "Tell me what March 16th, 2006 is." She was colder and harder than Dean had seen her since their meeting.

Brett looked confused.

"No? Tell me what October 5th, 2005 is then."

He grimaced in pain and dropped to his knees as Sam continued his incantation. "What are you yammering about, woman? Some freaking anniversary of our first date or something?"

A single tear left her eye and she said. "Tell me what March 16th, 2006 or October 5th, 2005 are – either one – and I will stop Sam."

Sam paused, his eyebrows disappearing under his hair. Dean looked at her like she was crazy.

"Holly," Dean started, but she raised a hand.

"Tell me!" She insisted.

Brett howled. "I don't know, bitch!"

Another tear escaped and her right eyebrow arched as she knelt to be eye level with him. Her voice trembled only a little as she whispered just loud enough for the whole room to hear. "March 16th was my baby's due date and October 5th was the day you kicked me so many times in the stomach that I lost her." Taking a deep breath, she stood and turned away, then, and looked to Sam. "Let them die," she breathed, numbly. Holly walked across the foyer and disappeared into the kitchen.

Dean smiled behind his shotgun and Sam resumed the incantation. At its conclusion, Brett and Wilson threw back their heads and black smoke emerged and burned up on the ceiling. Now only mortal men, both collapsed on the floor. Brett was dead before he hit the floor. Wilson took a jagged breath and groaned a death rattle before he stopped breathing as well.

Dean quickly checked their pulses as Sam went to help Bobby back into his chair. Dean turned to Bobby. "We need to call the police this time, Bobby."

Sam frowned. "Dean, are you crazy?"

Dean glanced toward the kitchen. "She said he came from money. If he just disappears, she's got nothing. She hasn't had a job in five years, and if my guess is right, the bastard wouldn't let her have real access to any of their money. As his widow, she'd inherit at least his bank account. It could give her a new start."

"And what do we tell the police?" Sam asked, incredulous.

Bobby interrupted. "It's a good idea, Dean. I'll call Sherriff Mills. She knows some of what we do and I should be able to get her to write it up as an electrical accident."

Sam looked in disbelief from Dean to Bobby, shrugged, and then nodded.

Seeing it decided, Dean walked out of the library into the kitchen.

Holly was standing with her back against the refrigerator, her arms wrapped around her waist as if to hug herself, staring blankly at the floor just in front of her toes.

"Hol'?" Dean asked.

She looked up with dry eyes, but tear stains on her face. "Is it done?"

Dean nodded. "They're both dead."

"You told me not to get out of the circle and it was the very first thing I did."

He frowned at her. "Yeah, you did. And it could have cost you your life. Did Sam and I not tell you that you needed to do _evertything _we told you to do?!" he voice began to deepen even as it grew louder.

She glared at him. "Yes, you did. I wasn't thinking. But, Dean, I was scared to death!"

He grinned, then, and changed his tone. "You were trying to help Bobby. I can't fault you for that." He put his hands on her upper arms. "Are you okay?"

She took a deep breath. "Not even close. I feel like my insides are shaking. I don't know how to process this. I don't have to live," her voice cracked. "With fear. I never have to see him again." She took another, shakier, deep breath. "Dean, I'm free!" she whispered, but her eyes were wide as if she were terrified.

He grinned at her and pulled her into a hug. He found out that her insides weren't the only shaking. From head to toe, she was trembling like she was at the epicenter of an earthquake. He tightened his arms around her.

She choked out a sob and he froze. Then she started a full out, crying jag.

He began to stroke her back and just let her cry, hoping it was a release – and that it would end soon.

Sam walked in and found them that way. His eyebrows rose as he looked at Dean, whose expression clearly said 'Help me!' Smiling, he walked in and put a hand on her back. "Holly, you're safe," he said, softly.

She sniffed and turned her head, slightly, so her voice wasn't as muffled as her sobs. "I-I know!" she grasped. "I-I d-don't know why-y I'm c-crying!"

Dean relaxed a little then. "It must be relief. A lot of pent up emotions coming out." He looked down at her, even though her face was still hidden in his chest. "I've heard women do that."

She started shaking again and Dean's eyes widened and he looked up at Sam, whose eyes also widened, in an almost panicked look, and he shook his head, as if to say "I don't know either!"

Then she pulled back and the Winchesters saw that she was laughing. Both of them relaxed then.

"Hol'?"

"'I've heard women do that'? Really, Dean?" She laughed. She hugged him, tightly, again, then released him. She wiped her eyes and sniffed.

"They're here!" Bobby called.

Holly frowned. "Who?"

"The sheriff."

Holly suddenly looked frightened. "What?!"

Dean took her shoulders. "Relax. Sheriff Mills knows about our work. Bobby's going to talk her into signing off on the cause of death being accidental. She'll probably want a statement. Stick to the truth: you weren't present when they died."

~υπερφυσικός~


	5. Finish the Job

~υπερφυσικός~

Sheriff Mills hadn't seen the Winchesters or Bobby Singer since cremating her husband and a zombie version of her son. Now she was listening to them tell a story she was sure was a hundred and eighty degrees away from the truth. Finally, she looked at the wife of one of the victims.

"How did you get that bruise on your face?"

Holly looked at the big brown eyes of the sheriff and said. "My husband hit me. Dean was helping me to get away from him and he came after me. I was hiding in the kitchen until Dean came and told me that he and his friend Wilson were dead."

As sheriff, Jody Mills had dealt with a lot, but nothing got her blood boiling like a man hitting a woman. She looked at the Winchesters, then at Bobby Singer, then back to Holly. "That's all I need from you. It was clearly an accidental electrocution and my report will read as such."

Dean and Sam looked surprised that it didn't take more convincing.

Jody saw their looks. "If you can, have your 'accidents' outside my jurisdiction in the future."

Dean nodded as Sam said "Yes, ma'am."

Jody, then stepped closer to Holly, and said something very low that made Holly smile and whisper "Thank you." Then she walked away from the Singer house and back to her car. Once the ambulance was finished loading the bodies, Mills and the ambulance drove off the property.

Dean stepped over to Holly. "What'd she say?"

Holly's smile widened. "She told me that the three of you were crazier than a sack of cats and to be careful."

Dean looked indignantly down the driveway toward where the vehicles had just disappeared. "Hey!"

She laughed and looped her arm in his. She looked up at him at that moment. "I'm hungry. Does Bobby keep his kitchen stocked or will I be trying to cook with something from the fridge that's mostly mold?"

Dean laughed, then. "It's pretty stocked. But you don't have to cook; we can run to town…"

"If he has supplies, I insist. It's the only way I have to pay you back."

Dean stopped her. "You don't have to pay us back."

She smiled and hugged him. "You are incredible, Dean! But I _want_ to! Instead of saying 'pay you back' how about I call it saying 'Thank you'?"

He smiled, rubbing her back. "It's our job. The family business. But if you're a good cook, I'm sure no one will object. Bobby's cooking is similar to his rot gut whiskey."

~υπερφυσικός~

Singer Salvage Yard

Dean and Sam sat in Bobby's kitchen after a hunt, eating, when Bobby walked in with a letter.

"Hey, you guys remember Holly? The woman whose abusive prick of a husband was possessed by a demon and followed you guys here last year?" Bobby paused. "By the way, thanks for that."

Dean frowned. "Of course, I remember Holly. Why?"

"She sent us a letter." Bobby offered Dean the letter.

Dean wiped his hand on the paper napkin by his plate and he took the letter from Bobby and began to read it.

_Dear Dean, Sam and Bobby,_

_I just wanted to send you a note on the anniversary of my liberation, thanks to all of you. I am happy to report that I have not only returned to school, I __graduated with my Bachelor's Degree last month. I am now living in Nashville, TN, and am working in sales at the Ryman Auditorium, a job I really like! I have also met someone, whose name is Doug. He seems nice, but I am moving __extremely__ slow this time. No one will fool me like 'Dick' did._

_I am happy, my friends. Thank you, again, for that gift. I hope you all are well on your way to the same thing. If you ever need anything from me, you know to call me, I hope. I may not be able to shoot a gun (I've taken lessons, by the way, so that's not even true anymore), but I can keep you fed and sheltered._

_Thank you, again. _

_ Holly _

_PS Dean: _

Dean stopped reading at that point. Sam raised his eyebrows at his brother. "What?"

"What?" Dean growled. "It says 'PS Dean'. That implies it is a message for me."

Sam rolled his eyebrows. "Okay, whatever."

_PS Dean: I needed to thank you specifically, Dean. If not for you, I might be dead, now. Thank you for interfering when no one would. I love you, my friend, and I hope you find all the happiness you so richly deserve. If I can ever help you in anyway, please let me know._

Dean folded the letter, then and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. He felt good to know that, in this time of complete upheaval, something he did really made a difference. A _positive_ difference. Even if it was for only one person.

FIN


End file.
